A Heart Sings in the Rain
by WereWolfPrincess1215
Summary: It's been four years since that day, and Soul has done everything he can to move on, but can't seem to find the strength. Oneshot.


He never wanted kids. They ran everywhere. They were noisy. They smelled. They threw up. Their hands were always sticky. They woke you up at 3 in the morning to open Christmas presents. They got into mischief. They broke things. Having a kid was like keeping a tornado in the house.

But she always wanted kids. She had always wanted to tuck them in, and to read them stories. She wanted to give them baths and dress them up in cute outfits. She wanted to pick out baby names months in advance, and then forget them at the last second. Having kids was the greatest gift ever.

Soul sat over the edge of his bed, face in his hands. It had been another sleepless night. Every night before _that _day was. No matter what he did, he could never get to sleep. After he put the twins down he'd just lie awake, or sit motionless like he was now. He looked at the clock again. 4 am. It was today.

He wanted to cry, but cool men don't. And so he got up, took a shower, got dressed, all in complete silence. Not even Blaire showed up to try to seduce him. She knew better than to bother him today. Soul attempted to eat, but his toast tasted like sawdust. And so he made a cake instead. He covered it with white frosting, decorated it with flowers and scythes, and lettered it with the words, "happy birthday!" He covered it and put it up high.

Someone had started to cry, and so he ventured into the kid's room and took the sobbing child out of his crib. "Hey, shh, shh. It's okay, Life. It's okay." He murmured to the white-haired four year old. "Daddy's here, Daddy's got you." Ketsuron was still sound asleep, oblivious to her brother's panicked cries.

Once Soul had gotten the elder twin out of the room and given him a bottle of warm milk did he finally settle down. "Was it another bad dream again, buddy?" He wondered in a hushed tone. Still sucking on the sippy cup, Life just nodded, and buried his head into his father's shoulder.

"About the lady?" Another nod. The Death Scythe sighed and shook his head, fighting hard to keep the tears away. It seemed as though Life kept on having nightmares about a blonde-haired lady. His son didn't know her, but Soul wasn't quite ready to tell him. After a few more minutes of bouncing on the balls of his feet, the child fell back asleep, clinging to his father's neck.

Soul looked down at his boy, and almost wanted to hate him; to blame him for today, but he couldn't find it in his heart to. Besides, _she _would never forgive him if he did. The sound of the doorbell shook him out of his dark trance.

He went to open the door, and found Spirit behind it. He still looked fairly young, with his hair cut a little shorter, around chin-length. A few peppered strands were invading the scarlet.

"Hey, Spirit." Soul dully greeted, taking a step back for the elder Death Scythe to enter into his apartment.

"Hey," the other man answered, hands shoved into his pockets. His sapphire eyes softened a little at the child in his son-in-law's arms. "Did he have another nightmare?"

"Yeah. I'll tell him later. I just…I dunno. it's not the right time yet." The white-haired boy was passed from father to grandfather without so much as stirring.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of them." Spirit offered the younger man a light-hearted grin. Soul returned it with a nod and left the apartment, a wax paper-wrapped parcel under one arm.

It had begun to rain, but he didn't even seem to mind as his clothing became soaked. Nobody was around on the streets, as if they sensed what day it was. Not even the sun was out, or laughing, as it usually did. As Soul made it down the well-worn path, his mind kept straying back to _that _day, exactly four years ago.

_Soul looked out the window at the rain, pulling back the hospital's curtain with one hand, and holding Maka's with the other. After a few moments more, he turned to his wife and bent to kiss her. She smiled up at him. The Death Scythe hovered down her body, and kissed her swollen stomach. The idea of fatherhood, whether he wanted it to be or not, sent strange jolts down his body. But he liked the feeling._

_The Death Scythe rose from his wife's side. Just then, his stomach gave a low roar. Soul grinned._

"_I'm going down to the cafeteria. Are you hungry, Maka? Do you want me to bring anything up for you?"_

"_No, I'm fine, Soul. You go ahead and eat."_

"_I'll bring a burger or something." The white-haired man shot the blonde a grin before departing for the door. He paused for a brief moment at the frame, and turned back._

"_I love you, Maka."_

The rain kept running down his face, the individual drops like kisses on his skin. His clothes were so soaked that they began to chaff, but he didn't mind. Now his bodily pain matched his internal pain. Soul just shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and kept his head down. Once or twice his sneakers slid on the slick cobblestone streets, and twice he had recovered, but the third slip sent him onto his rear.

The Death Scythe didn't get up, but crossed his legs and sat on the wet ground and stared at the slanted rain and the mist that rose off the empty streets. A sharp-toothed grin made itself known as its owner sourly thought about how the cold and emptiness was now a main part of his life.

The rain came down harder now, and poured down his cheeks like waterfalls. Somehow, the Weapon found the strength to stand up and continue his journey.

"_Man, I don't know why everybody whines about hospital food. This stuff is actually really tasty!" Soul laughed as he made his way back to Maka's room with a full stomach and a tray of leftovers. He had put a little bit of just about everything on it in hopes that his wife would like at least one thing. He took no notice as he was brushed aside by a doctor, frowned as he was instantly passed by a nurse, and grew frantic as other white-clothed staff barreled past him._

"_Damnit!" Without a second thought, he threw the tray down and joined the stampede, elbowing and shoving his way to the front of the mob. He reached his door and nearly threw up. Both hands were clamped to his mouth either in response to the gag reflex or the pure, heart-stopping shock._

_Through the wall of hospital staff he could just make out Maka, oxygen-pump covering her pale, blue-tinged face. Blood dripped onto the floor. Soul stumbled inside. He had to reach his Meister, he just had to…! Against his will, his knees gave out, and would have sent him to the floor had it not been for the strong arms that had caught him. He fought them, and tried to rise again, but his body protested against his will._

"_Soul, stop," Spirit whispered, voice cracking. He was on the verge of tears. "Stop."_

"_Maka!"_

For the first time in a long while Soul looked up, and his heart fell even farther. He was here. The grass squeeled under his rubber-soled shoes as he crossed the lawn. He didn't care much about the mud as he knelt before the marker that frequently appeared in his nightmares.

"Hey, Maka." He squeaked, and his voice splintered something awful. "How are you doing?" His hand shook as he reached out to touch the tombstone. His fingers slid down the icy granite, growing numb from the mix of rain and cold stone. He traced the dates beneath his Meister's name, and immediately pulled his hands away.

"The kids are doing fine. You should see how tall they've gotten. Life's got so much energy, and Suri grows more beautiful every day. Just like her mother."

Soul shook his head to clear his eyes of the downpour.

"It's their birthday today."

His hands balled themselves into fists. "Maka, I know you'll hate me if I say this, but you can hate me forever for all I care. I blame myself for that day, and every day since! A Weapon must be ready to give his life for his Meister, and to be there for them, but I wasn't! It's my fault that you're gone!"

Like a shot of lightning, his fist connected with the headstone. Scarlet began to melt its way down, almost looking like the stone was crying blood. That it was bleeding. The Death Scythe pulled back his shaking hand and grasped at his heart.

"If there was a way that I could take your place, I'd do it in a heartbeat. You left too soon, Maka. You left too soon. I need you!"

An eerie silence fell upon the graveyard after the scream. It was like that for a long while before the white-haired man spoke again.

"I brought you a new book, Maka. I'm sure you'll like this one." He whispered and shifted so he was on his hands and knees, making a sort of tent as he carefully unwrapped the parcel and showed the large book to the headstone.

"See? I drew that myself, Maka. So you know it has to be cool, right? I'll read it to you…"

Soul turned the book back to him and looked at the cover. It was a crude drawing, but it had taken every last ounce of his artistic abilities to make it. It was of him and Maka, back when they were fourteen. He had on his old letterman's jacket and she the plaid miniskirt. They were holding hands.

He flipped open the book and began reading. "Once upon a time, there was a brave princess named Maka, and a cool prince named Soul…"

He wetted his lips with his tongue and sighed as the rain had become salty.

"I guess cool men do cry, huh?"


End file.
